


A Debt of Gratitude

by the_last_dillards



Series: Kinktober 2020 [7]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Kinktober, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Tailor/Customer - Freeform, sex as payment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26864332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_last_dillards/pseuds/the_last_dillards
Summary: Julian: Oh noo but I’m just a Federationer…we don’t use money.. ;))) How will I *ever* pay...😜🦎🍆💦👅Kinktober Day 7: Roleplay
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: Kinktober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945888
Comments: 20
Kudos: 88





	A Debt of Gratitude

**Author's Note:**

> Update! Podfic version by yohlenyaoilover now available here: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/27135443>

Garak readjusted the scarf on a mannequin, retying it into a different style for the fourth time in a row. He glanced compulsively over at the dressing room, only to fold the wrong scarf end over yet again and have to redo it with a huff.

He snuck another glance.

Julian had been in there for much too long now. 

The suit he was meant to be trying on was a rather simple one, something for a Bajoran celebration he’d been invited to. Certainly, he’d managed to put much more complicated outfits on in less time. Tailor’s instincts told Garak that he ought to be checking up on him or else Julian was liable to tear a seam with whatever part he was struggling with. 

He finally finished up with the mannequin and approached the dressing room curtain.

Just as he reached out to slide it open, Julian barreled out, running right into him. Garak caught him with hands on his upper arms, holding him steady.

“Oh! Mr Garak, I’m so sorry!”

That one particular, peculiar word struck Garak to his core, and he looked up sharply.

Julian’s eyes held a mischievous twinkle.

They shouldn’t do this, Garak knew it. Not in his shop. But the temptation was so impossibly strong.

It was one of their little games. They’d never truly used honorifics directly to each other during the time they’d known each other—the exception being Garak’s use of ‘doctor’ which was more a pet name than a term of respect—and so there was something that felt nearly scandalous about using them now. 

A facade of unfamiliarity to be used teasingly, and as of late, when one or both of them was in a frisky mood and wanted to start something.

He let go of Julian and pulled himself up straighter, letting his gaze take on a predatory quality as he began stalking around him. Julian looked absolutely lovely as always in the new outfit, brown skin and hazel eyes accentuated by the fabrics Garak had chosen. 

“Quite alright, Mr Bashir. I take your enthusiasm as a compliment.”

He examined the cut as he went, looking for areas that seemed too tight or loose. The crotch area could use a bit more give but otherwise, it framed him very well.

Garak stopped behind him.

“Tell me, does everything feel alright?”

“Oh, it feels marvelous, Mr Garak. I love what you’ve done. What do you think?” 

Julian’s eyes shined and he bit his lips to hide a grin as he gave a dramatic spin to show off his new suit.

“Oh, it looks very lovely on you, Mr Bashir. And I should hope so. I did spend _so_ many hours working on it. Are you ready to ring up your purchase or would you like to browse the shop for some accessories? A Rigellian handbag would go perfect with the jacket.”

Julian slowed to a stop and put on his best innocent face. The poor man wasn’t much of an actor. “I’m sorry, ring up my purchase? What do you mean?”

“Well, surely you know you must pay for your items, Mr Bashir. One must make a living after all.”

“But I come from the Federation! We don’t use money.”

Garak sighed gravely. “Oh dear. Now that is a problem. And after I’ve already put so much labor into making your clothes. There must be something you have that can be traded as payment.”

He tsked in disapproval at Julian’s answering pout.

“I don’t want to have to call the Station constabulary on you, Mr Bashir, but if you don't pay, I may have no choice.”

Julian flew both hands over his heart in a very theatrical show. “Oh no, please don’t do that Mr Garak! Maybe I could do something for you in return. I might not have any money, but I do have many skills.”

Garak scoffed. “Are you suggesting that I trust you to work in my shop? No offense, dearest patron, but tailoring is a fine art that takes years to master. But maybe...”

“Maybe?”

“I could put you to use elsewhere.”

He almost thought Julian was about to drop to his knees then and there, the way he clasped his hands together, fingers threaded tightly together. “Oh please, Mr Garak! I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” Garak menaced.

Anything was an awfully broad offer. No doubt Julian meant it in the simplest of ways—perhaps a quick dalliance in a backroom—and Garak would respect that implication.

But the thoughts of the things he could do, would do to dear Julian if given the chance. What sorts of sartorial outfits he might have him wear, posing for his eyes only, a few photos taken for later use.

Julian affirmed, “Whatever you want.”

Garak positively leered. “Computer, initiate Garak’s Clothiers temporary close procedure two.”

The shop lights dimmed and the windows tinted themselves as the door lock clicked into place.

Garak crooked a finger and motioned for Julian to follow him around the counter. Once they were behind it, he turned to face him. 

“On your knees.”

Julian nearly collapsed onto them, eyes bright and eager as he eyed Garak’s trousers.

They would need to be quick. Garak was well aware of the lengths that an upset customer who thought that your shop ought to be open would go through to get inside the store, and he’d rather avoid such an upset while in the middle of a liaison with Julian.

He undid the fastening of his trousers and used his fingers to evert himself, pulling his prUt out into the cold station air. It was yet another reason that he didn’t usually like having sex in his shop. But before him was the promise of a warm and wet orifice.

Julian waited obediently, focused intently on it. 

Garak suppressed a smirk and reached out to take his jaw in hand, holding it open as he guided himself in. He received a loud moan in response, too loud, but he didn’t have it in him to reprimand Julian when his eyes were squeezed shut as if he wanted to savor this.

The soft heat of his mouth was bliss. Garak put one hand on the counter to balance himself and the other on the back of Julian’s head to guide him into a rhythm. 

Julian looked very lovely like this, mouth wide around his cock, fingers gripping at his thighs to resist the urge to touch himself. He could only hope that Julian didn’t manage to make a mess of the inside of his trousers. 

Garak stifled his own moan as Julian took him in deep, relaxing his throat to take him into the root.

“Mr Bashir, I must say, you seem rather adept at this task.” Garak forced out, and Julian’s eyes glanced up at him curiously. “If I had known you were such an experienced professional, I may have only requested a discounted session in your quarters instead.” 

Oh, how Julian burned and glared at that, never stopping at his task all the while. 

Garak smiled sweetly in response. He knew he would get his comeuppance later.

Finally, he felt himself nearing the edge.

“Mr Bashir, if you don’t intend to swallow, I suggest you take the cloth on the shelf just under the counter there and use it. I won’t have you ruining that shirt so soon.”

Julian didn’t take the cloth. 

And with that, Garak let himself go.

Julian swallowed around him, taking everything he had to offer and then continuing to suckle until the prUt retracted itself from his mouth. Then he looked up at Garak and flashed him a demure look, fluttering his lashes for effect. 

“Was that enough to cover the price of the suit, Mr Garak?”

Garak peered down at him, taking in his tented trousers and smug smile.

How he’d like to wipe that grin off his face and make Julian lose control. He wanted to ride him into oblivion until Julian begged for release.

Perhaps, they had time yet.

“Certainly the trousers. But I’m afraid you haven’t even begun to cover for the shirt and jacket yet, Mr Bashir. Please, step this way into my backroom.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic was one I actually adapted for the event. I started it last year, abandoned it, and then decided to repick it up and finish it. I’m not the happiest with it but I’ve already wasted way too much time trying to get it somewhere I like. So, oh well ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Kudos and comments are awesome for me and you ;D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Debt of Gratitude [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27135443) by [yohlenyaoilover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yohlenyaoilover/pseuds/yohlenyaoilover)




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